


To A Place Of No Return (The Surrender Remix)

by ingberry



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Barebacking, Clothes Sharing, Dubious Consent, Just the Tip, M/M, Rimming, Sexual Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 12:20:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6610498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ingberry/pseuds/ingberry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur doesn't fuck slaves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To A Place Of No Return (The Surrender Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [clotpolesonly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clotpolesonly/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Strongest Among You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4618560) by [clotpolesonly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clotpolesonly/pseuds/clotpolesonly). 



> Dear clotpolesonly!  
> I had a lot of fun reading through your fics while deciding what to do. :D And I ended up reading your story _The Strongest Among You_ where you dealt with slave dynamics and Arthur's relationship with Merlin, and I thought, "but what if it was sexual slavery instead and what if he was gifted to Arthur?" So that's the starting point for this remix!
> 
> I wish a lifetime of good hair days on Her Royal Beta Highness for all help!

_::So we come  
::To a place of no return  
::Yours is the face, that makes my body burn_

A prince’s chamber was his sanctuary. Off limits to everyone but the innermost circle, it was a calm constant in a bustling castle. To Arthur, it was a respite from endless negotiations, visiting noblemen, and the whims of his father. 

It was unacceptable that the slave was in his chamber, hovering at the edge of Arthur’s vision at every turn like a shadow that didn’t belong. 

Arthur’s neck prickled with the feeling of being watched. He was overly aware of his hands as he flipped through the records Geoffrey had brought him, knowing the slave was watching his every move. Every time he found himself engrossed in the records, a ruffle of fabric or a pronounced exhale would remind him that he was decidedly not alone. 

What little patience he had snapped like a brittle twig and Arthur gritted his teeth. “Will you ever take a seat, or is this incessant hovering all part of your master’s plan?” 

The slave looked directly at him for the first time, his blue eyes steady.

“Technically, you’re my master now.”

Arthur sat up straighter and gave the slave a measuring look where he stood. The tunic he wore was loose on his thin frame, but he seemed comfortable in it, leading Arthur to believe they might be his own clothes. The slave’s face was blank—almost haughty. 

“Is this how King Cenred trains his slaves?” Arthur asked. “To be mouthy?”

“Suppose you could say the training didn’t quite stick.” The slave clasped his hands behind his back. “Sire.”

“Perfect,” Arthur muttered. 

To his relief, the slave finally sat down on the edge of a chair, arms crossed in his lap. It gave Arthur enough peace of mind to focus for a little while, until the sheer idleness of the slave started to distract him. 

“Isn’t there anything—” Arthur paused, his lips pressed together in frustration. 

The slave raised his eyebrows. “—that I should be doing?”

They stared at each other as Arthur’s cheeks heated. His hand clenched, Cenred’s face swimming in front of his eyes. He rose from his seat, not caring whether he would be absurdly early for the evening’s meal if he left now. The alternative was staying here, having to entertain the living proof of Cenred’s plan to humiliate him. 

Arthur paused by the door. “I won’t use you like your master intends. Entertain yourself how you see fit while I’m gone, but don’t leave the room and don’t talk to anyone else.”

If the slave was grateful, he didn’t show it.

***

“All business aside, I do hope Arthur finds Merlin to his liking,” Cenred said, eyes glinting over his goblet.

With his father’s warning eyes on him, Arthur took a measured sip of wine. 

“I’m sure he does,” Uther said, his smile a touch too wide. “Such a generous gift would never go unappreciated in Camelot.”

It took every ounce of Arthur’s control to not snort wine everywhere at the idea that Cenred had ever been generous. All Cenred cared about was his own pride and standing, which Arthur had sufficiently damaged the last time the Essetir party had graced Camelot with their presence. 

Arthur took great joy in reliving Cenred’s pathetic showing against him in the tournament as Cenred boasted of his harem. 

“—handpicked him myself from all our virgin slaves. Only the best is good enough for Camelot, after all. Our most important partner in these troubling times.”

Arthur fought the urge to roll his eyes and gave a slow, assenting nod instead. “Truly inspired choice, King Cenred.” 

The raise of his father’s eyebrow told him he may have overdone it a little, but Cenred seemed satisfied. 

“He has a set of lips on him, the boy does. Would have kept him for myself if I didn’t promise you the best, Arthur.”

Arthur swallowed against the uncomfortable lump in his throat and hummed noncommittally, wishing himself back in time where he still had opportunity to escape before Cenred arrived. Had he known what this whole thing would bring, he would have fought his father much harder on the decision that Arthur had to stay for the negotiations. 

He’d expected the negotiations to be both boring and senseless considering Cenred was involved, but he’d never expected to be presented with a pale, long-limbed man his age, collared and hand-picked for Arthur to fuck. 

It was absurd even for Cenred. 

“I did not realise Essetir had established its own harem,” his father had said as he eyed the spectacle with an impassive face. “You have been busy.”

If Arthur had entertained any hopes that his father would get him out of the whole situation, they had vanished into thin air. And now the evening meal was nearing its end, after which Arthur was expected to make use of the gift he couldn’t possibly refuse. 

Cenred left the table with a toothy grin and a parting comment about leaving Arthur to his busy night. Arthur played along until only he and Uther remained in the hall.

“You can’t possibly expect me to keep up this ridiculous game, Father.”

Uther laughed. “You wouldn’t be the first to make good use of a bed slave.”

Arthur wished he had a sword to impale himself on at the implication.

“Camelot may not practise it but other allies have, and still do.” His father put a hand on his shoulder. “Son, fuck the slave or don’t—I won’t make that decision for you. Just tell Cenred what he wants to hear.”

“And give Cenred the satisfaction of humiliating me in turn?”

“Your pride is of miniscule importance in these negotiations.” Uther rose from his seat and headed towards the hall before he turned. “Besides, fucking the slave could do you good. You’ve been tense lately.”

Arthur sat wide-eyed for several seconds before he gave up and retired to his chamber.

***

“Here,” Arthur said as he lay all the furs from his wardrobe onto the floor in front of the fire. “You should be comfortable on these.”

The slave, whose given name was apparently Merlin, eyed them from a safe distance. 

“I know you expected to sleep in my bed, but this will have to do.”

“I’ll survive.”

Arthur looked up and set his eyes on Merlin. Cenred was right that Merlin had some mouth on him, but he doubted they were talking about the same thing. 

“You’re insolent for a slave.”

“Boys from the villages don’t make particularly good slaves. _Sire._ ”

Arthur snorted. He gave Merlin a second look, noticing the rough fabric of his trousers for the first time. “Trust Cenred to raid his villages for bed slaves.”

“Not good enough for your royal highness?”

Merlin sat comfortably in the chair now, no longer on the edge of it like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. He was slouched low, arm draped over the armrest, his hand hanging limp. His skin glowed golden in the light from the fire and shadows emphasised his sharp lines: cheekbones, collarbones, thin wrists. 

“I don’t fuck slaves.”

Merlin smirked. “I find that very hard to believe.”

“Believe what you want.” Arthur threw a pillow onto the furs. “I prefer to fuck people who actually want to.”

“Suit yourself.” 

Arthur gave him a long look before he slipped behind the screen to change into his nightclothes. He didn’t feel inclined to call on a servant, so he poured some cold water into the basin and figured it would have to do.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you wanted me to fuck you,” Arthur said as he shrugged out of his clothes. 

Merlin laughed, and if this was any other situation Arthur would probably be offended. 

“You think highly of yourself.”

“That’s a prince’s privilege. Besides, you’re the one challenging my convictions.”

“I’ve just never met anyone, especially of nobility, who wouldn’t take pleasure where it was offered to them.”

“Would you?” Arthur countered and winced as he slipped a hand into the cold water. 

He rubbed it across his face, over his neck, and shuddered as it slid down his torso. It was no worse than taking a quick bath in a creek or a river, but he was in no hurry to prolong it regardless. Running his hands quickly over his chest, his mind drifted to Merlin sitting in the chair by the fire, hair curling slightly at the nape of his neck. He started when Merlin spoke again. 

“No.”

Arthur swallowed, barely remembering what Merlin had responded to. “Well, there you go.”

“But I’ve never been presented with a bed slave, either.”

“Consider yourself lucky.”

Arthur pulled on a pair of breeches, not particularly eager to sleep nude, and stepped out from behind the screen, chest still damp from his quick wash. 

“I’m starting to suspect you don’t appreciate King Cenred’s generosity,” Merlin said and when Arthur caught his eyes, he looked far too amused for the position he was in. 

“I wouldn’t speak too loudly about that if I were you.” Arthur slipped into his bed and leaned back against the headboard. “If he catches wind that I haven’t taken your virginity after all, you’re prime goods for another nobleman who may not feel the same way I do.”

Merlin looked away, his brows furrowing as he gnawed at his bottom lip. 

“I can take care of myself.”

Finding no energy to argue, Arthur turned his back on Merlin and faked sleep until it finally came to him in earnest.

***

Arthur shared a long-suffering look with Leon as they followed on Cenred’s tail, watching as he bumbled his way through the woods scaring every animal in the vicinity. “Take Cenred out hunting,” his father had ordered with no regard for Arthur’s horror. Even Cenred’s sly protests that, “Arthur surely had other things to do” couldn’t deter his father, so they had set out around midday in a slight drizzle.

Hunting was usually an activity Arthur enjoyed: the silence of the woods, the focusing of his scattered thoughts to the act of hunting, the satisfaction of hitting a target. All the positive aspects of hunting were far removed with Cenred leading the party. He laughed uproariously with his knight, birds fleeing the trees above. 

Would suspicion be raised if Cenred had a hunting accident? A stray arrow? A falling branch? If Leon hadn’t been such a principled sod, Arthur would’ve been sure he was entertaining the same ideas. 

The drizzle, even as slight as it was, eventually soaked them to the bone and they hadn’t seen an animal fit to hunt since Cenred had scared away the deer. 

Cenred hung back, waiting for Arthur to come up alongside him. “You seem tense, Arthur.” 

Arthur looked at him sideways. Cenred used the name like they were friends, like he had the right to address Arthur with such familiarity. 

“Not at all, King Cenred. Merely keeping a lookout for deer.”

“Do you always take hunting quite so seriously?” 

“The point is to hunt, isn’t it?”

Cenred laughed and turned to look at his knight. “Is it? I rather think the journey itself is half the fun.”

“If I want a journey, there are nicer places to travel to than a soggy forest.”

“Ah quite. I do enjoy a trip into the villages for a good bedding.”

Arthur kept his face neutral and said, “I was thinking more along the rivers, or to the lakes.” 

A slow grin spread across Cenred’s face. “It seems my slave was the perfect gift for you. You’re awfully serious, Arthur. So wrapped up in performing for your people, taking part in mindless hunting and tournaments. Your life is blessed by the gods. As a Pendragon, you can have anything you like – do anything you like.”

A forbidden image of Merlin’s slender neck passed through his mind. 

“Is that how you live as king?”

“Of course. Who would ever want to carry the burden of a kingdom on their shoulders if there were no rewards? Certainly, tournaments are a nice diversion, but there are more entertaining things.”

Arthur hummed noncommittally and did his best not to roll his eyes at Cenred’s display of wounded pride—the fuel for the whole blasted situation. Drops of rain slid from his hair and down his neck, slipping under the shirt that was already sticking to his back.

“Sires,” Leon said. “You will catch your deaths soon, as wet as you are. We should turn back.”

Cenred turned immediately, setting up a quicker pace. “Splendid! I’m ravenous.”

Arthur followed, unable to keep from prodding the beast. “But don’t you think some nobility are terribly adept at ignoring their responsibilities for pleasantries, King Cenred?”

The uncomfortably piercing stare of Cenred flickered to him and held his eyes. “Oh, certainly. You need the balance, my friend. Do your duties, reap the rewards. A lazy, indulgent king is no use to anyone, but neither is a tired, humourless king.”

***

Water pooled onto the floor and left little rivers along the stone as Arthur pulled off his clothes, too wet and cold to care that he wasn’t alone. Thankfully, the servants had anticipated his needs and a warm bath was waiting for him in the middle of the room. He left his soaked clothes on the back of a chair and slipped into the bath, hissing at the stinging sensation of warm against cold.

Merlin was looking and made no attempt to hide it. Arthur raised his eyebrows in response, but there was no sign of blushing virgin cheeks. 

“Pleasant hunt, sire?”

“Your king is a useless hunter and talks a lot of shit.”

Pressing the back of his hand to his lips, Merlin snorted. “Aren’t you afraid I might be reporting back?”

“Bugger that. If you are, you can tell him I—“

“Yes?”

“I can’t even find adequate words.”

They both turned towards the door when it opened and Arthur slid further down into the bath as one of the maids entered with a large plate of food. 

“Compliments of King Cenred, My Lord,” she said as she lowered it onto the table. “The finest fruits from Essetir.”

She hurried out again, the door slamming behind her, and Merlin’s lips quivered. “Seems he’s worried we’ll need stamina.”

Arthur fought the urge to drown himself in the bath. The worst part was he was rather hungry after the ride, and it was a long time since breakfast. 

“What is there?” he said. 

“Plums, apples, strawberries.” 

“Have some,” Arthur said. 

Merlin looked surprised. “Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure it’s meant for both of us. And if he’s poisoning me, I’m taking you with me.”

“Very generous of you, Sire.” 

Arthur wasn’t sure he liked the tone Merlin constantly put in _sire_. For all Cenred was, he wasn’t very good at picking out slaves. This Merlin was about as meek as a boar. But maybe… Arthur watched as Merlin reached for a plum, the sleeve of his shirt riding up. Merlin brought the plum to his lips and bit into it, juice bursting from it, trickling down his fingers. It slid down to his wrist before Merlin leaned in and licked the juice from his skin. 

Maybe Cenred knew exactly what he was doing. Maybe he knew that a meek slave would never tempt Arthur, that Merlin talking to him like an impertinent equal would lower his guard. Maybe Cenred’s sodding plan was going exactly as it should. 

Arthur closed his eyes and damned himself to all hell. When he opened them, he found Merlin licking juice off his fingers, his plush mouth wrapped around each one in turn. Arthur was tense in his bath, body tight like a string. His cock fattened at the sight. 

He needed to remind himself that Merlin wasn’t an equal—he was a slave. That was all he was. No matter how un-slave-like he behaved. 

“Feed me,” Arthur said, clipped. 

Merlin stilled in surprise for a moment but shook it off and reached for a handful of fruit. He rose from his seat by the table and moved slowly towards the bath, eyes on Arthur, until he came to stand behind Arthur in the tub, body close.

“Sire.” His voice was low, stripped of all sarcasm. Arthur felt it like a whisper down his spine. 

A strawberry rested against Arthur’s lips and he took it in his mouth, biting off the tip. When he took the rest of it, Merlin’s fingers brushed his lips and there was a soft intake of breath, Arthur’s own stuttering in his chest. Merlin smelled faintly of freshly washed linen and clean, warm skin when he leant forwards, holding a plum for him. Arthur bit into it, juice bursting from the plum to coat his lips. It slipped from the corner of his mouth as he swallowed, and Merlin’s finger pressed to the corner of it, swiped plum-juice carefully from his skin. 

Arthur’s dick was fat with desire. Heavy, achy arousal spread from his core, weighed him down and pulled at his stoic demeanour. 

Merlin fed him the plum again, letting him bite off another piece, his slender fingers running across Arthur’s mouth to catch the excess juice. Arthur fought to keep control. He took the last piece of the plum, leaving Merlin with the core, and swallowed, barely tasting it. He welcomed Merlin’s hand with parted lips, brushing his tongue across the tips of Merlin’s fingers. 

The taste of Merlin’s skin pulled him out of his haze and he closed his mouth, let Merlin pull away. He accepted another strawberry, blood rushing in his ears. 

“Enough,” he said. 

Merlin lingered only briefly before he retreated to a safe distance, leaving Arthur’s back feeling cold and exposed. The bathwater was cooling, but Arthur was aching hard now, thoughts racing. He wanted to stuff his dick into that lush mouth, wanted to bend Merlin over the table, lick the plum-juice from his skin. He saw Merlin straddling him, long legs caging Arthur in. He imagined Merlin face first on his bed, taking his cock with broken moans. 

He curled his fists, digging his nails into his palms for control. Thought of Cenred. Cenred’s face. His father’s face. Cenred laughing at him, mocking him. He wasn’t going to fuck a slave.

The bathwater was lukewarm at best when he was soft enough to get out of the bath, wrapping himself in the towel laid out for him without looking in Merlin’s direction.

***

“How long is this going to take?” Arthur asked at breakfast, not even bothering to mask his desperation.

His father eyed him, a certain long-suffering look about him. “We’re barely halfway through the treaty, Arthur. These things take time, as you well know.”

Arthur stomped off to the armoury where he picked up the heaviest armour he could find, strapped himself in with difficulty and took to the training field. He swung at the targets until his arms ached, imagining his father’s and Cenred’s faces taking the brunt of his sword. 

He flopped down on the grass, sweat sticking to his back, his sword discarded carelessly. His shirt was just about as damp and sticky as his hair. He wouldn’t even be able to take a bath in peace. 

The worst part was he didn’t even want to take his bath in peace. 

He turned over onto his stomach and lay with his face pressed to the ground, a curse coming out muffled against the grass tickling his lips.

***

Merlin had Arthur’s white shirt on. It was loose on him, but it barely reached his thighs, his long bare legs stretched out in front of him. He sat awkwardly in his chair, shoulders tense and a slight blush staining his cheeks even as he met Arthur’s eyes, his gaze a challenge.

They stared at each other in silence as Arthur pushed the door closed. 

“My clothes needed washing.”

They both knew it was absurd: that Merlin would have no other clothes, that a slave should help himself to the prince’s clothes, that Merlin was wearing nothing but a shirt. 

Arthur noticed how the deep neckline of his shirt exposed Merlin’s collarbones. They would be so easy to follow with his tongue. The red collar around Merlin’s throat seemed to stand out starker like this against his white skin, his white shirt. _Arthur’s_ white shirt. 

Arthur even thought he could see the outline of Merlin’s cock. 

When Merlin was presented to him, Arthur had known he was better than other noblemen, other royalty who couldn’t resist frivolous temptations. Arthur didn’t bed servants, didn’t take advantage of the people in his kingdom, didn’t even accept offers from willing men and women in the taverns. Arthur didn’t fuck slaves. 

“On your knees.” Arthur’s voice broke as he said words he’d never planned to say. 

He walked slowly towards the chair as Merlin dropped to his knees below it with no hesitation. Arthur’s dick fattened in his breeches at the sight of him, pale legs against the stone floor, face upturned. His hand shook as he cupped Merlin’s face, skimming his fingers across Merlin’s skin. He ran two fingers across the jawline, his thumb across sharp cheekbones. When he pressed the pad of his thumb to Merlin’s bottom lip, a shaky breath brushed across his skin. 

Merlin’s lips parted and his thumb slipped into his hot mouth, Merlin immediately hollowing his cheeks around it. The promise of heat and pressure made blood rush in his ears. There was an audible pop when he pulled his thumb out from Merlin’s mouth. He dragged a trail of wetness across the bottom lip. 

“I’ve done things before,” Merlin said. “That Cenred doesn’t know about. I’ve had people in my mouth. ”

Arthur took in the sight of him. His knees were wide apart on the floor; a flush of red creeping from his neck, down to his chest where it disappeared under the shirt; his parted lips; the outline of a hard dick. 

If he’d done this before, if Merlin had already… it was fine, right? 

He slipped his hand into his breeches, bit his lip when he gripped the base of his desperate cock and squeezed. Using his free hand, he managed to drop his breeches to the floor and stepped out of them. Merlin’s eyes were on his dick when he licked his bottom lip. 

Arthur’s heart leapt up into his throat, watching those plush lips, knowing he could just… it’d be so easy to—

A wave of relief nearly pulled him under when Merlin’s mouth opened over the blunt head of his dick with a quiet, weak moan. He pushed inside, no patience for games, and slid over Merlin’s tongue. Arthur pressed his eyes closed and moved his hand from the base of his own dick to Merlin’s cheek, rubbing soothing circles into his skin. He hardened more when Merlin suckled at him, cheeks hollowing. 

His hands slid into Merlin’s hair, cupping the back of his head. The wet heat surrounding his cock was everything he’d known, deep down, he wouldn’t be able to resist, not when Merlin’s tongue ran along the underside of his cock, not when his hollowed cheeks made Arthur’s thighs shake. 

Merlin’s moan was muffled, and pleasure seemed to spread from the tips of Arthur’s fingers to his tingling scalp. It spiked wildly when Merlin began to slip Arthur in and out of his mouth, dragging his tongue along the length of him with every move. His lips were red, bruised, wrapped tight around Arthur’s fat dick. His eyes were turning glassy as he sank down and pulled back again. 

Arthur gave a strangled sound of approval, watching his cock push in. His fingers were buried in Merlin’s hair at the back of his head as he slowly began to hitch his hips into the movement, the head of his dick hitting the roof of Merlin’s mouth. Merlin groaned and let Arthur’s cock slide across his tongue. 

“Oh, g—“ Arthur’s words stuck in his throat, his heart beating wildly. “I’ll spill. I’ll— _nnnngh_.” He buried his dick in Merlin’s mouth and came pulsing over his tongue, hunching over Merlin’s head, one hand on his shoulder to hold himself up. 

Spots swam before his eyes as he attempted to get his breath back, the echo of pleasure still rumbling in his gut. He gently pulled himself from Merlin whose face was slack and distant as he moaned weakly, hand pressed to the outline of his dick. Arthur’s white shirt was stained, although it was clear Merlin had not come. 

Arthur wiped wetness from the corner of his mouth with his thumb. 

“Have you done anything else before?”

Merlin shook his head, and Arthur’s heart got stuck in his throat. If Merlin hadn’t, he shouldn’t. But he couldn’t leave him like this: skin flushed, lips bruised, cock leaking into Arthur’s shirt. He’d just help Merlin come too, show him what was good. 

“Get on the bed,” Arthur said as he pulled Merlin to stand on his shaky knees. “Face down.”

He watched as Merlin stumbled, colt-like, towards the bed, sprawling his tense, needy body over Arthur’s sheets. Arthur’s spent cock gave a feeble twitch. He followed Merlin onto the bed, spreading Merlin’s legs to give himself room between them. Merlin rested his head on his bent arms, face tucked into the crook of his elbow. 

The sight of Merlin sprawled on his sheets wearing his shirt was like drinking wine—it turned his mind fuzzy and slow. He placed his hands on Merlin’s calves, running them slowly upwards, skimming the back of his thighs. Merlin twitched under his touch. He rubbed his thumbs on the inside of Merlin’s thighs, hearing his breath turn even more laboured. 

He ran both hands upwards until he cupped the curve of Merlin’s ass. Pushing the shirt up until it bunched at the small of Merlin’s back, he skimmed his hand softly across the skin. He pressed a kiss to the bottom of Merlin’s spine. 

When Arthur exposed his hole and let out a hot breath, Merlin jerked in response, body tense. Arthur ran a soothing hand across his hips and down to the inside of his thighs, nudging them further apart. Arthur pressed his mouth to Merlin’s hole, tongue circling the rim of it. 

A shocked gasp was muffled by the covers, Merlin’s whole body taut like a bow. Arthur licked at his clenched hole, nudging his left leg further up the bed for a better angle, his mind buzzing with the tiny, punched-out sounds Merlin made. It was sloppy and messy, his tongue lapping in broad strokes, fingers digging into Merlin’s ass to hold it open. 

He took what he’d wanted for days, what had been bubbling like an ugly secret in his belly. A choked groan was pressed into Merlin’s skin as he circled his tongue with sharp, measured movements, knowing what a picture they had to make, how shameful it would be if someone found the prince of Camelot with his face buried in a bed slave’s ass. 

The thought should discourage him, but instead it made him press just a little harder, Merlin seemingly liquefying under him, all muscles relaxing until he was a limp mess on the bed. His hole unclenched, gave way to the tip of Arthur’s tongue, and Merlin shouted, bucking up against Arthur’s face. 

Arthur groaned in response, jaw aching with the strain. He pressed the pad of his thumb against the hole, watching as it gave a little under his pressure, and he wanted it. He wanted to fuck Merlin until he couldn’t breathe or think. His cock was painfully hard again. 

Pushing himself up, Arthur pulled at Merlin’s hips until he was resting some of his weight on his knees. Merlin’s face was still pressed into the covers, weak, broken sounds spilling from his mouth. Like this, Merlin’s ass was on display, hole wet with Arthur’s attention, just waiting, ready. But gods, Arthur wasn’t going to do this. He was never going to fuck a slave. 

Maybe if he just—

He slid his dick along the cleft of Merlin’s ass, fingers pressing too hard on Merlin’s hips. His teeth sank into his bottom lip as the wet slide gave him just enough to feel satisfied. It was perfect, rocking against Merlin’s body, cock gliding between Merlin’s cheeks. 

Merlin pushed back against him with desperate rocks of his hips, and just then it wasn’t enough anymore. The need itched under Arthur skin, consuming him from the inside. 

“Just… Just a little,” he told Merlin. He wouldn’t really fuck Merlin, he’d just…

He pressed the head of his cock to the clenched hole, pushing just a little, wanting to feel it give. Merlin whimpered, sweat clinging to the hair at the nape of his neck. 

Arthur’s eyes rolled into the back of his head when it opened around him, taking the tip of him. His breath stuttered and he pulled out, just to feel it again: the head of his cock taken into Merlin’s body. Merlin’s moans were low and hoarse, coming without pause, his fingers twisted into the bedcovers. 

And when Arthur breached him again, pushing just a little further inside, Merlin clenched helplessly around him, sending Arthur into a crashing release. He half-yelled as he spilled himself inside Merlin, barely finding enough sense to wrap his hand around Merlin’s cock. 

The mere touch sent Merlin coming onto the covers, his ass clenching desperately. He gave a string of incoherent sounds, bruised lips parted.

***

The celebration feast to mark the end of long and arduous treaty negotiations was always lavish, running well into the night. Even the servants were allowed to drink once the food had been served and consumed. And tonight, in a rare display, knights and servants were celebrating together.

Uther was piteously drunk where he splayed out over a chair, whispering into the ear of a chambermaid that was pressed against him, her cheeks flushed. 

“Like father, like son,” Cenred said as he came up behind him out of nowhere. 

Arthur hid his surprise. “It’s how you prefer your kings, is it not?”

“Quite. But does Camelot, I wonder?”

Arthur averted his eyes when his father’s hands began to wander. 

“The mighty Pendragon. Bedding slaves as his father bed the chambermaids. What would they all say?”

Laughing humourlessly, Arthur turned to face him. “If spreading gossip was your aim all along, I’m afraid the common man has had you beat by a long shot for years, King Cenred.”

A grin spread across Cenred’s face. 

“Ah. But what would your father say, Arthur, if he knew his beloved son had fucked a user of magic?”

Arthur froze, fingers clenching painfully. _Arthur, I can’t tell you—the collar, it— He’ll explain it, he’ll lord it over you._

“Did I forget to mention that?” Cenred made a face. “Terribly sorry.”

Arthur’s skin prickled uncomfortably, his throat nearly closing in panic. Memories of Merlin straddling him, fucking himself on Arthur’s cock, appeared without invitation. Then a fleeting memory of soft kisses on his lips. His hand stroking Merlin’s arm.

 _Just trust me._

“Is he powerful?” Arthur said, voice distant to his own ears. 

“More powerful than you could ever imagine. Only the best for you, my dear friend.” Cenred’s eyes glinted with malice. “How low you have sunken, Pendragon.”

“Could he ruin you?”

Cenred laughed. “Oh, he could, if the collar didn’t bind him to me. All precautions taken.”

Something eased in Arthur’s chest and he smiled, slow and deliberate as he watched confusion flicker in Cenred’s eyes. Arthur reached inside his cloak, closed his fingers around the band of leather and pulled it out. 

He held Cenred’s gaze as he dropped the collar to the floor.


End file.
